A Thing or Two
by All and Sundry
Summary: Pressing his glasses up the bridge of his thin nose, he huffed and blew past her once she'd moved. An easy A had never looked quite so far off. : Multi-pairing. AU. Rated M for language & sexual content.
1. Crazy

Um, so... This idea's been rolling around in my head for eons. EONS. Finally decided to put pen to paper and scribbled it out today in the midst of my procrastinating on DwF...

This is an AU, obviously, in which our dear trustship has been shoved into the wonderful world of education along with another ship or two... Characters will take after canon personalities somewhat. So far, I think it may be just several chapters or so in total, if you guys are interested in seeing more anyway. I'm having fun with it so far.

Enjoy?

* * *

><p><strong>. : A Thing or Two : .<strong>

1. Crazy

* * *

><p>Jolted awake with realization, she sat up and threw the covers off.<p>

Beside the bed, a clock read in wild blue letters: 12:30pm.

She swung out of bed and stumbled up to an already opened closet, every manner of colour spilling out from the pile of clothes near the bottom.

Jeans were swiped off the end of the bed and yanked on as quickly as the tight fabric would allow. Uncovered was a tiny black ball of fur, a cat, stretching out over the pink bedspread. The cat darted away then, narrowly avoiding clothes thrown his way.

Pulling on a jacket over the the shirt she'd slept in, she pushed the closet door half closed. Making use of the mirror there, she peeled black strands off one side of her face before twisting them and the rest up atop her head. A hand there to keep it in place, she dashed into the bathroom for a tie.

The sounds of drawers being jerked opened and their contents rummaged through was loud enough that it could be heard over the shower and the tell-tale sloshes to suggest occupancy.

"Where's the fire?" a voice called from behind the curtain.

"Class."

Laughter echoed in the small space just before the curtain was tugged aside. Steam billowed out around a heart-shaped face peering out, a grin decorating it.

"Just cut. You're gonna fail anyway," she said, letting go of the curtain to tuck a blonde strand back under a violet shower cap.

"Shut up, Mai," she answered and sent a quick glare which soon began to fade...

Leaning a little, she attempted to see around her roommate who, of course, drew the curtain shut with a snap albeit too late...

"Hey I'm just repeating what you said," Mai called over the water. "Have fun with crazy Ikeda."

"Sure," she replied flatly, tying up her hair. "Don't forget lunch... And Joey is not invited."

"Aw, no fair," a voice, unheard until then, complained from behind the curtain almost instantly.

"Dumbass, I told you to keep _quiet_," Mai said with a sigh.

Leaving the place to her Mai and guest, she made the trek through campus.

Steps down the narrow hallways of the old building sounded painfully loud.

She cursed under her breath, not that anyone would've been able to tell given the actual language. To follow was another in stark, angry English when the door before her stood locked.

The lights were on and a couple students from the back spotted her through the small window in the door but they didn't do anything more than glance to her then ahead again, as if to the instructor.

Since when did Ikeda start locking out students?

Late students...

Some teacher's had this policy, strict assholes that acted like their basic classes should _matter_. That was exactly why she'd chosen "crazy Ikeda", one of the known pushovers. It was more likely that her classmates were lazy and that the woman just didn't hear the sound. Ikeda's hearing was going after all.

With a sigh, she leaned against the wall and played with her phone, carmine-hued nails tapping against a blue-rimmed screen. There was nothing else to do but wait.

Nearly an hour and a chunk of her phone's battery life later, the door swung open in time with a few others and students began to slowly crowd in, pressing past to the very ends of the hall and on their way.

Waiting for her class's couple dozen students, she went on messing with her phone until the sight of a brunette bob caught her eye, then her hand as she pulled the girl aside.

"Why was the door locked?"

The young woman shrugged in response and hefted a backpack splattered with floral print up.

"I dunno, you can ask. I gotta do lunch and then run halfway across campus to Brann."

Brann, a place near the theatre building housing noting but mirrors, open space, and the kind of floor suitable for dance practice.

"I'll see you later!"

Letting the girl go on her way, she pressed her phone into her pocket and stepped into the classroom.

Apparently she was out of luck today, the only person there was a young man putting books into a messenger bag. His stuff was near the front of the room and that said it all.

He was another student, a teacher's aide.

After all, he looked young enough. Bookish enough. Though the tailored get up _was_ a bit much.

She had two guesses, either he was here on his parents' tab or he was just a first year cranked up to eleven. He was wearing the first tie she'd seen in months.

At least Ikeda made one good decision, to get help. The woman could scarcely handle her classes as it was.

"Excuse me, where's Dr. Ikeda?"

"At home, I suspect," came a curt reply in a surprisingly deep timbre. He hadn't so much as paused in packing up. "She's ill."

Her sympathies were swept away under a decidedly weary sigh, as if by impatience, from the man. He slung a leather strap across a shoulder and turned to send a look her way. Shame otherwise agreeable features were manipulated so crassly. Lips in a tight line. A brow knit in annoyance over thin, silver-framed glasses. Narrowed blue eyes boring down into her.

"Class is _over_," he emphasized stiffly. "What do you want?"

A brow crept up her face. Aide or not, he was still a student and like hell was she going to put up with this over a class that mattered only because it had to.

"Look," she started, "I just wanted to talk to Dr. Ikeda about class. Is her email still—"

"Are you deaf? I said she was ill," he'd interrupted and gestured in a sharp wave. "Save your excuses for a visit to the office tomorrow. I'm late for an appointment and you're in my way."

A fight wasn't worth it, not when a grade might be hanging in the balance anyway.

Pressing his glasses up the bridge of his thin nose, he huffed and blew past her once she'd moved.

An easy A was looking farther off than ever.

* * *

><p>. : End 1 : .<p>

* * *

><p>Credit goes to tumblr's <em>willnoblis<em> for the surname choice for our dear professor Ikeda.

Didn't honestly think other characters were going to pop up so quickly but here we have it. Do read and review if you'd be interested in seeing where this might go!


	2. What Can I Do?

And second chapter's up rather quickly. We'll see if I can keep it up, hm?

* * *

><p><strong>. : A Thing or Two : .<strong>

2. What Can I Do?

* * *

><p>Grumbling commentary from her stomach reminded of the next point in the day's schedule.<p>

"Sounds like a stuck up little bitch to me," Mai offered simply, reaching across the table for a half eaten piece of cake left unattended. Waving a fork smeared with frosting, she went on, "Ishizu just ask Ikeda for special permission to drop the fucking class. He could be taking over for the semester and I wouldn't be putting up with _that._"

"I suppose," she said at length, taking up a spoon - her fork had been stolen - and pushed at the leftover bits of tuna salad on the faded orange plate in front of her.

'That' was awfully unpleasant. She got it, playing teacher's aide probably wasn't the greatest thing in the world but he didn't have to be so rude. But impolite or not...

"I would still be required to take it again next semester," said Ishizu. "It's too late to transfer."

Fork sticking out of her mouth, Mai shrugged. And seeing her roommate had nothing more to add, she pulled the utensil out of her mouth and spoke, all ill-intended amusement. "Then it looks like you're paying the guy a visit."

As if it were a summon, there he was.

Across the empty cafeteria, she spied him near curved glass wall, windows soaring two stories up to the ceiling and at the bottom, doors in pairs. There was that same dark hair and suit. He had one pale hand pressed to the back of a shorter figure, guiding on out.

The pair paused in the doorway and his taller figure leaned as he seemed to help her - a her judging from shape - gather her wrap around her head and shoulders.

Not a moment more and she'd swatted his hands away and repaid fussing with fussing, if his sudden retreat and laughter was a fair way to judge.

Setting her jaw, she folded her legs next to the table. So he _was _capable of being civil. Continuing to play audience, she watched him open the door for his companion and offer a single wave in separating.

What with this and the rush out of the classroom earlier, Ishizu had to wonder about the nameless woman.

"Hmm?" Mai prompted through a mouthful of cake. Swallowing, she glanced over her shoulder around the tables then back to Ishizu. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I thought I saw something."

* * *

><p>. : : .<p>

* * *

><p>The next morning found her tugging one of the few heavy doors to Fadley Hall open, covering a yawn with another hand.<p>

"Too early…" she mumbled to herself and started up the stairs.

After the first flight, the time was the last thing on her mind. Naturally, he looked pleased to see her, face arranging into a scowl after a moment's surprise. Though rather than step back and, he'd stepped forward and started up the stairs along with her.

Given the narrow space, Ishizu found herself brushing shoulders with the young man, the unfamiliar scent of him tickling her senses, something warm and bright.

Two pairs of steps sounded all the louder given the emptiness of the hall.

And while she'd stopped at the door, he hadn't.

"Take a seat," he told her and ventured on down the hallway.

Dark paper had been taped against the sliver of glass in the door: an addition from the delight that was what's his name. She sighed at the sight. He wasn't a people person, clearly.

Door to the office closing behind her, Ishizu took a seat near the desk.

Inside, there were more books than anything, a half dozen shelves all but hiding white walls and filled with books, small stacks on the edges of the shelves where no more could fit upright.

There was even a stack or two atop the bench under the large window opposite her.

Rising from the chair, as he didn't seem to be in a hurry to return, Ishizu leaned against a bookcase and admired the view.

A couple stories below, dull grass spread out, hundreds of leaves having collected in the sloped earth that was a small courtyard. Ringing it were reddened pathways and tall trees here and there, branches still half decorated with leaves, bright and shivering like fire.

That was one difference between the professors of Fadley Hall. They had the opportunity to, and often took advantage, have class outside.

The sound of a throat being cleared jerked her from reverie. Turning, she found him standing there with a cup of coffee and a gaze drawing up to meet hers. Deciding not to point this out lest things grow even more awkward, she resumed her seat without comment.

Unbuttoning the gold button of his blazer, the man settled at the other side of the desk. He paid mind only to the cup lifted to his lips.

After a second sip and a hum she'd swear was just her imagination, it was clear he hadn't anything to say to her anytime soon.

"About Dr. Ikeda…"

His words in return were slow, "I am more or less Ikeda now."

The urge to roll her eyes was not she suppressed.

He had something of an accent, she noticed absently.

"Ikeda it is..." she answered. "Is the actual professor going to be out for the rest of the semester?"

"There's no way to tell," he paused to set down his cup, black contents swirling slowly. "And frankly that's irrelevant. What _is _relevant is the fact that you're failing this class."

At least he'd spared her having to say it.

Playing with the phone charm between her fingers, she tried to imagine what to say, what stance to take. This was just the evidence surfacing to prove how little she cared about the class. It had nothing to do with her aspirations at school.

With other classes she watched her scores closely, spent time chatting with the professors if only to glean bits of wisdom from being in their presence.

It had been hard to take this class seriously from day one. Ikeda showed up fifteen minutes late, greying hair a mess, blaming her pet cat Miss Lizzie.

A handful of students had dropped the next day.

By now, it wasn't as simple as dropping the class. The window for that opportunity had passed and there was only a slim chance of obtaining special permission like Mai had suggested. But the last thing she wanted to do was have the head of the department involved. He was said to be an exceptionally strange man whose silver hair marked him beyond the number of years he'd lived.

"I know," she admitted. "I need to know if I can still pass. What can I do?"

Looking up from her phone finally, she saw him then her stomach twisted.

Lips curved into a smirk, he was leaning on his forearms like he'd been waiting for her to answer the whole time.

The wooden back of the chair groaned as she pressed back into it. For no reason, her heart felt as if it had wedged into her throat.

What was _that _look for?

"Let's take a look, shall we?"

Ishizu watched as he took a quick sip of coffee then carefully relocated his cup. In the empty space, a thick book landed with a faint thud.

"Ishtar… Ishtar… Marik..." he was murmuring as he flipped through page after page.

Finding the one, he ran a fingertip along the couple pages, quick to note the steady decline in scores she was already aware of. By her average and easy calculation…

"Ishizu," he pronounced. In the husky quality of his voice, every syllable sounded slow, deliberate, "you're going to fail. There's nothing you can do."

Her heart all but stopped.

This was the truth she hadn't let herself seriously consider until now.

Thoughts crowded in.

The first class she'd ever failed. All of the next semester rearranged to fit in this one course. Again. Her grade point average ruined unless she passed. There had to be some way to remedy this, no matter how little she cared about the class. Anything was better than having to deal with it all over again.

"There has to be something I can do. Extra credit and decent scores on the rest of the tests and the final…"

Wasn't that enough to make up the difference?

In the face of her argument, his expression began to fade.

"The only way would be for you to pull _high_ marks on the last 3 tests and the final. Top percentage of the class kind of high," he told her, adjusting glasses under his twitching brow. "Your average is incredibly poor and, to be honest, it would be better to put this on your list of classes for next semester."

"So… So just…"

The words wouldn't come out even if her lips remained parted.

Just give up.

It'd be easy for now put things off to worry about it later, and the best apart, she'd be rid of _him_.

For a terrible moment, she considered. But...

Maybe it was the sleepiness.

Maybe she'd finally cracked.

Maybe it was the smirk daring to creep back onto his face right then.

It'd be just as easy on his side of things, not to have to spare a single thought for the one problem student. She'd have bet anything this was what he was angling for.

The feet of the chair scraped the wood floor loudly a she stood up, staring down her nose at him.

"Ikeda," she said, "see you in class tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>. : End 2 : .<strong>

* * *

><p>And not sure how I feel about this one admittedly. Wanted to keep it a bit short before we moved on however… Next chapter due to live up to the assigned rating unless the plot bunnies carry me elsewhere, just letting you guys know.<p>

Stay tuned.


	3. Radar

This one is a tad short but I felt like updating.

* * *

><p><strong>. : A Thing or Two : .<strong>

3. Radar

* * *

><p>Carefully pushing away rumpled covers so they wouldn't cover her tiny bedfellow, Ishizu reached for the buzzing electronic on the nightstand and squinted at the bright display cutting on inches from her face.<p>

3am that night, well morning, and her brother choose then to text and say hello.

[ I thought you were only away for the weekend? ] she asked him. [ What happened? ]

[ Stuff ] In a moment, he'd sent a face to explain further. [ ;) ]

[ I don't want to know. ]

[ You sure? ]

[ I'm certain. ] Her fingers hovered long enough for the screen to dim briefly before it lit up again. [ So you're coming back tomorrow? ]

[ Yeah ]

[ Then talk to me in class. Good night. ]

[ Night! ]

* * *

><p><strong>. : : .<strong>

* * *

><p>Ishizu woke blinking and sweeping fabric out of her face. That out of the way she settled back in bed only for another projectile to find the target again. Her face. And throwing off what turned out to be a shirt, she sat up.<p>

Shadow smudged around squinted eyes, Mai peered at her from across the dim room and yawned. "You're late, it's—" she glanced at her side when, as if in response, there was a murmur from the blankets, presumably connected to the arm sliding around her waist. Sluggishly, she tugged at the appendage. "_We're_ late too Joey."

In the end roommate and _guest_ had stayed in bed while she was the flight of a hummingbird, Ishizu almost forgetting to tuck the back of her shirt in under her skirt just before the rush across campus.

* * *

><p>The sound of her boots echoed in the hallway.<p>

Slipping from the empty space, she stepped into a foyer-like area connecting the hall to a balcony. Crammed together along either wall was a half dozen machines.

Standing in front of one, she frowned at the bright display behind the glass.

Nothing but junk.

Deciding to postpone food until after class, she stepped aside to another machine and offered up change. The thing hummed more loudly as its electronic parts worked.

On the row near the bottom, the bottle got stuck and shaking the thing soon proved useless. So, stooping carefully, she slid a hand in.

Though the glass she saw the bottle slip free. Prize won, she made to pull her hand out only to have the gold prongs of her bracelet dig into the back of her hand and nothing more…

Wrist between the metal door and parts in the bottom tray of the machine, she was stuck.

Wonderful.

With a loud sigh, she rested a temple against the glass. Either she was going to get a cut and scratched hand or a broken bracelet or worse, both. Something told her trying to mess with the bracelet itself would earn another incapacitated hand.

Fishing her phone out of her bag, she shot a text to her brother. [ Come help me. ]

[ ? ]

[ Stuck. 2nd floor. Vending machine. ]

[ Gods I wish I was there ]

Ishizu sat, tucking her legs in at one side, which was apparently enough time for her brother to continue in his amusement as her phone signalled the arrival of another text...

[ I'd take pictures ]

For a moment she considered throwing her phone. [ Where are you? ]

[ omw to campus ]

[ You're late. ]

[ Your point? ]

Asking the obvious. If he wasn't late, he could help.

[ Rishid knows someone in the class cause I sure as hell don't. Hang on. ] A pause. [ Breathe. Can't have you hyperventilating.. ]

Even without anyone to see, she rolled her eyes. Stuck in a predicament and her brother deemed jokes appropriate. She could practically _hear_ him laughing over the rumble of his jeep's speakers.

The other girl from class - Tia? - she didn't have her number.

Mai was on the other side of campus by now…

[ Rishid found someone. Might be a few minutes. ]

No sooner had dropped her phone back where in her bag did the least desirable persona walk in from the hallway.

Ikeda.

Or whatever his actual name was.

His eyes slid over her and to the machine currently holding her hostage.

Done with observations, he lifted one hand and proceeded in absently counting out change, she guessed, since whatever he was murmuring for numbers wasn't a language she knew.

"Since it's apparently too much trouble..." she said, "could you at least tell someone else I'm here?"

"You have a phone, don't you?" he answered, taking his time to press coins into the machine next to her.

A moment's silence found her seething. "Yes. But that's not the point."

The machine beeped with each button he pressed.

Apparently he was going to be frustratingly exact. Then he as much as confirmed it, crouching to extract what turned out to be a lemon-flavoured water as he lingered at her level.

"If you want help," he drawled, face impossibly impassive, "then let me hear you ask for it."

It was the kind if thing that was either somehow coincidental or completely meant as a double entendre.

She could feel the warmth bleed into her face and hoped it wasn't noticeable. He hadn't even told her his name but yet he was saying things like this. And the worst of it was, there was nothing to suggest what he actually meant, he appeared as surly as ever.

"Either help or don't," she found the words finally. "I'm in no mood for games."

His answer was a click of his tongue, as if in disapproval.

But before she could think to ask what the noise was for, he'd knelt next to her. "Turn your wrist."

Up close, somehow his voice sounded that much deeper.

Pulse aflutter like a frightened bird, Ishizu was scarcely paying attention when he set down the bottle in hand and demonstrated. Just as well, he abandoned the effort just after. Beside her, she felt him lean, a hand pressing the door open and the warmth of the other ghosting her arm.

A simple push and pull all at once and her hand was free, trapped bottle thudding loudly against the tray inside the machine. He'd retrieved his then and straightened to full height, leaving her suddenly aware of how close he'd been and then of the fact that he was waiting.

Carefully retrieving the start to the whole problem, she stuffed it in her bag and stood up.

She followed as he led the way down the hall, striding in once he'd grimaced and stepped aside to push the door open.

Bodies scattered over desks sat up a bit straighter and shuffled altogether as phones and the like were hidden.

Face still warm, Ishizu claimed one of the two seats left in the front row and began mechanically removing things from her bag before shoving it under the desk.

All the while she could feel a classmate's eyes boring into her over the seat her brother would end up taking when and if he ever showed up. She avoided looking and the short-haired girl eventually gave up, turning attention back to the man at the front of the room leaning back against the podium.

He was talking about whatever it was they were supposed to have read for this day, she hadn't read the chapter of course, so there was no point in listening.

It occurred to her he was dressed too well once again, like a glossy page out of some foreign magazine… She watched a hand leaving one crisp, white pants pocket to join the other in gesturing.

Decidedly not hearing a single word, Ishizu rested her chin in one palm. She watched as his lean figure straightened, hands smoothing out a deep blue blazer she was reasonably certain was velvet, and circle around the podium to the board to write presumably whatever it was he was still talking about.

He started in the upper quarter of the board most teachers didn't bother with but then, they weren't necessarily as tall. And once he'd resumed his prior post, her gaze fell absently. Where she'd half expected patent leather and tassels to go with the rest of the get up were dark boots with an average heel; at least the height was all him then.

Motion drew her eyes back up, his adjusting his glasses. He had one of those faces. One where age was just a question. He looked just young enough for bright-eyed delusions about post-secondary school but she felt it safe to assume he could easily have been thirty. Maybe it was the fact that he was all clean-shaven with every strand of hair inarguably in its proper place.

Then there was the catch in consonants with nearly every move of his solid jaw… and the numbers from earlier… She could only guess at what eastern point on the globe he might call home.

It was then that he caught her gaze and, to her surprise, faltered mid-sentence. Of course he recovered, soon picking back up where he'd left off.

It was easy enough, Ishizu thought, to momentarily slip. But it was doubtful he was nervous teaching itself, nothing about him would suggest this. He was leaning again, speaking in a rather even tone, features still arranged in a sort of vacant look…

Then it happened again.

He caught her gaze and faltered, his speech falling into silence.

This time he hadn't bothered continuing and instead pulled a bit of fabric from inside his blazer and rubbed away at the frames he'd just then taken off.

Tension slowly descended, students not knowing what to do with themselves.

As with the rest of the class, Ishizu stared and fought to keep her features still. For all the man's strange confidence, blatant staring was the thing to bother him.

At least maybe now he'd stop being so crass since she could bug him just as easily as he did her.

"I'm..." he began finally, taking some time in finding the words while he continued to clean his glasses. "I'm honestly not in the mood to teach right now."

He paused, returned the fabric to its pocket, and slipped silver frames back onto his face. His gaze swept over confused faces to settle on the only one that dared smile up at him.

"Sir," Ishizu briefly raised a hand and spoke, "does that mean class is over for today?"

For no reason at all, it caused a bit of a thrill to watch him set his jaw and allow his eyes to linger.

"Yes," he stated. And leaning away from the podium, he went to the board and marked the first line which turned out to be a title. "This is the work we'll be focusing on next Monday."

He capped the marker carefully and set it down.

"Additionally, the schedule of this class will change from now until further notice," he went on, hands in his pockets as he walked up near the podium with distracted steps. "The time will remain the same but Wednesdays and Fridays will now consist of online work."

A note of finality fell and students stirred, beginning to pack up.

* * *

><p><strong>. : End 3 : .<strong>

* * *

><p>Yeah I don't know but there you go. I'd say I'm sorry for embarrassing poor Ishizu but a certain teacher got his comeuppance sorta so…<p>

I meant this to be a lot longer but I haven't updated in quite some time and this fic just seems to do fine with chapters a bit shorter. Just took a bit cause I ended up getting discouraged about this fic in general but let's keep going, shall we?

Review if you like.


End file.
